


What Morning Will Bring

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Comanche Moon (2008)
Genre: Community: writers_choice, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Woodrow and Gus take a brief respite from their search for Scull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Morning Will Bring

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based upon the 1998 CBS mini-series, starring Val Kilmer, Karl Urban and Steve Zahn, which in turn was adapted from the fourth novel in the Lonesome Dove series, as written by Larry McMurtry. Some prior knowledge of either book or mini-series is needed to follow some events in this fic
> 
> Written for the [writers_choice](http://writers-choice.livejournal.com) prompt #449: shoe (s)

Woodrow Call crouched alone, stoking the fire with his usual methodical slowness. The brim of his hat shaded his eyes from the glare of the setting sun, bright orange-red-yellow rays glancing through the rapidly growing dusky twilight surrounding him. Far off into the distance, the Ranger could hear the night-animals beginning to stir, yet he paid them no mind. He knew that one swift shot with his gun would deter anything from getting too close. 

He glanced up occasionally, hazel eyes seeking out the familiar form of his fellow Ranger, Gus McCrae, as the other man tended to his horse. Woodrow watched his friend for a while, as the sun cycled lower in the sky. For brief moments, he saw the light catching the hammer while Gus wielded it expertly, as he continued to patiently shoe the horse. It had been a long hard ride through the plains of Texas that day, yet Woodrow had the patience to see their journey through to the end, and he knew Gus was just the same, despite his talk otherwise. Gus liked to talk, Woodrow knew, which was just fine by him, because he liked to listen more than talk, himself. 

He shook his head then, eyes narrowed against a gust of wind that threatened to blow dust into his face before he dipped his hat down low to shield his face. His thoughts returned to Inesh Scull, their Captain who’d been captured by Ahumado, a Mexican bandit notorious around the wilds of Texas. He wondered if they’d get to Scull in time before Ahumado killed him. Woodrow knew they would try their hardest to prevent that from happening, or die trying; they had no other choice. His thoughts wandered then, to the paths and trails they still had to take and the Comanche raiders that he and Gus still had yet to fight. Sometimes he wondered if the fighting would ever stop. He’d long since returned his attentions back to the fire, flickers of flames beginning to show and sparkle amongst the snapping wood, when Gus joined him once more.

“Horses are shoed,” Gus announced, his usual friendly grin in place as he settled beside Woodrow.

“Figured as much,” Woodrow said, tipping his hat towards the other Ranger, before falling silent. 

Gus watched him for a while, knowing that Woodrow wasn’t the type of man to talk first. 

“Hey, Woodrow, you think we’ll find Scull tomorrow?” Gus said, when the silence stretched out for too long between them. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Woodrow said, slowly. “Surely the morning will tell us, mind. I‘ll not be knowing its secrets right now.” 

Gus snorted, and stared at the flames, shaking his head over his mostly silent friend. 

“You ain’t got nothing more to say than that, huh?” he asked, ruefully. 

“I don’t be thinking I do, no,” Woodrow replied, softly. “Nor do I care to tell the future. I don’t know it.” 

“I don’t supposing you do,” Gus said, with another laugh, before he fell silent.

“Go to sleep, Gus. All will be telling in the morning,” Woodrow said, finally, tipping his hat over his eyes to indicate his need for sleep. 

Gus didn’t go to sleep straight away; instead, he watched the flames dancing in the darkness, eyes roving towards his friend sometimes. Woodrow barely moved, hat still firmly pushed over his face to shield his eyes. The only movement about his body was the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, gloved hands resting gently upon his lean abdomen. Gus huffed out a laugh at that, shaking his head over his taciturn friend. Woodrow might be a lot of things, slow on the uptake at times and even slower to move, talk or give his opinion, yet still the Ranger was a good friend to have and always had watched Gus‘ back. 

Finally, he settled down, eyes drifting closed as the dance of shadows and flickers of flames lulled him into sleep. His last thought before dreams embraced him was that Woodrow had been right - no one knew what the morning would bring and that they would have to wait for it to reveal its secrets to them


End file.
